Merry Fricken Christmas
by smalld1171
Summary: Sam, Dean, a grave, and to make it interesting, Santa.


**Hello! Just a little mini-story that flew into my brain this afternoon. It amused me, I hope it amuses you. If you feel like leaving a comment I would love it! Happy Holidays! **

Dean leans on his shovel and stares into the grave he has just excavated. This is just too good. "Sammy! Get over here dude, you have GOT to check this out!" Dean watches his brother jog over to him and loves the look of surprise written all over Sam's face as he stares into the freshly dug hole, into the newly opened coffin.

Dean follows Sam's gaze, at the unearthed bones the Winchester brothers have come to burn. The bones in question, well, they seem to be wearing the distinctive threads of a typical paid by the hour mall Santa. Awesome. Dean points to the remains. "Ok Santa! The jig is up! Your days or years of terrorizing and harassing unsuspecting patrons at the local mega mall have come to an end!"

Sam just stands where he is, on the edge of the grave, without making even one comment. But Dean, well, he is on a roll and can make enough comments for both of them. "I, Dean Winchester, stand corrected, and maybe I feel even a little bit guilty. I mean, in light of this new and conclusive evidence, provided by none other than Mr. Claus down there, perhaps in hindsight it was a bit premature of me to laugh in the face of those people. But really, what are the odds that they were right when they told us that Santa did it? Huh, I kinda feel a bit like a tool. Maybe I should do something to say I'm sorry? What do you think Sammy? Would fruitcake be appropriate in this kind of situation?"

"Shut up Dean. Just, let's get this over with and get the hell out of here."

"C'mon Sammy, turn that frown upside down. You know, it isn't the REAL Santa Claus down in that pit all covered in soot." Dean leans further into the hole. "Actually, I guess he isn't really covered in soot, more like creepy crawlies, maybe some maggots if there's any skin left. Oops, got off track there. This is obviously just one of his 'helpers' Sam. I'm sure that the real big guy is still out there, right now, at the North Pole. Overseeing his countless minions as they toil away in that overcrowded workshop of his. I'm sure he's checking lists right now Sammy. Twice. Eating cookies and milk and getting chubbier by the second. So, don't despair, as soon as we bag this mother here, I'm sure you and I will be back on the nice list." Pause. "It's too bad though. I was really planning to make an effort this year but now... well, this has probably traumatized and scarred me for life. It's just...so upsetting Sam." Dean bows his head. "Just...give me a minute okay? I'm...I'm too shocked to go on."

"Give it a rest Dean! You're giving me a headache with all your stupid bullshit! Just get out of that damned hole so we can finish this already!"

Dean climbs up from the grave to stand beside his brother. He gently places a hand on his shoulder and squeezes. "I know Sam, I know, it's almost too much to take when your childhood memory of Mall Santa has been reduced to this. But, he'll be out of his misery soon Sammy, free to deliver presents on high, or maybe down low. At least we, and the general public at large, will be at peace once his reign of terror ends."

Dean chuckles at his own joke just as Sam shrugs his hand off. The older sibling watches Sam get to the business at hand of pouring salt on the Santa wanna be and it looks to Dean like he isn't too happy about it. Boy, aren't we just a bit touchy about all this Christmas crap? Next Sam douses the grave with lighter fluid and as Dean continues to watch, he feels another smart ass remark wiggle into his mind. Just as he is about to deliver it, his younger brother lets out a yelp of surprise and is thrown through the air only to land in a crumpled heap on the freshly fallen snow.

C'mon! You have GOT to be kidding me! Unbelievable! Why me? Why us? Why is Sam laying unconscious over there in the snow? And why, someone please, tell me why the hell am I now staring directly into the face of what looks to be a very pissed off facsimile of the jolly old elf himself? This seals it, without any doubt whatsoever.

Dean Winchester hates Christmas.

**The End :)**


End file.
